


Tomorrow at Noon

by butchsquatch



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol, Body Horror, Coming Out, Drunk Driving, Hurt/Comfort, Lots of hotel stays, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Road Trips, Vomit Mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:53:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butchsquatch/pseuds/butchsquatch
Summary: It's Richie's last night in Derry before he has to go back to his life. But the sudden return of Eddie, not as he once was, but as not much more than a skeleton, gives him the motivation to change things for the better. With only a week till his last big show, Richie decides its time to stop being honest and turn his life around, all while nursing Eddie back to health. Is a week enough time to write a new set that's sincere and funny?Spotify playlist(Description updated 10/10/2020)
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 7
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

Tomorrow at noon was Richie’s last day in Derry, then he had to decide whether he wanted to come out. Instead of thinking about it, Richie wanted to drown his sorrows in alcohol, so he left his hotel room and hopped into his rental car. He stopped by a corner store, not making eye contact with a soul but unable to resist cracking a joke about his purchase of a fifth of bourbon and BBQ corn nuts, “What can I say, I’m a classy man.”

The bleary-eyed 20-year-old behind the counter didn’t respond or even crack a smile when he gave Richie his change.

Richie, at the very least, had the common sense not to drink _while_ he was driving, but once he reached the sinkhole where the Neibolt Street house once stood, it was open season. After an hour of sitting on the roof of his car, he’d drank a considerable amount and managed to drop a few handfuls of corn nuts onto the road like he was trying to plant them.

The space was empty now, sad when for so long, it was terrifying. Now when Richie looked at the lot, all he could think about was leaving Eddie behind. Maybe if he’d tried a little harder, he could’ve gotten him out of there and saved him; if they could’ve saved him, then Richie wouldn’t be left with so much left unsaid. Just like the lot in front of him, Richie felt empty and sad.

It was pushing midnight when Richie started to cry again like he’d done at the lake with the rest of the Losers cuddled up next to him. As nice of a gesture as that was, Richie was glad to be crying alone this time. He didn’t feel the need to crack a joke or anything; all he had to do was mourn the loss of someone he loved for a lot longer than he realized.

Richie thought for a long moment that the screaming he was hearing was his own, but jumped and swore out loud when he realized it was coming from the empty lot. Dropping his corn nuts when he stumbled off the roof of his car, Richie ran across the street but stopped when he reached the sidewalk. _What if it’s a trick?_ He was sure they’d finished off It, but what if he had some second form, like a boss battle.

But against his better judgment, Richie kept moving toward the sound of the screaming, edging closer and closer to the pit where the house used to be. His stomach dropped when he saw a body—no, a body is too generous; a skeleton patched with muscle, encrusted with dirt and rocks crawling out of the sinkhole.

As he threw up for the third time in too few days, Richie watched the skeleton crawl toward him, its hand outstretched. He was about to convince himself that none of this was real when the person shuddered out, “Help…me.”

“…Eddie?” Richie said after he wiped his mouth off with the back of his sleeve. _It can’t be him._ _Why would it be him?_

“Rich…ie,” He spoke, and then passed out at Richie’s feet.

“Eddie! Ohh shit!” Richie exclaimed as he dropped to his knees next to the lifeless body of Eddie, “How the fuck…?”

This was all too suspicious and unnerving for Richie, but he couldn’t just leave him there. What if it wasn’t another trick? He couldn’t just leave Eddie behind again; if it really was him, Richie wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Taking a few deep breaths, he readied himself and then picked Eddie off the ground, holding back the urged to hurl again.

“If only you knew how gross you were right now,” Richie joked as he hurried back to his car and carefully laid Eddie in the back seat, “You will flip out…If you’re even still alive.”

Looking down at Eddie, he realized he couldn’t just leave him like that, exposed. If Richie got pulled over, it would look like he’d skinned somebody alive. “Fuck…Shit,” Richie mumbled while pulling off his jacket, his arm getting caught in the sleeve while he tried to do so, but eventually, he got it off and laid it on top of Eddie’s upper half, which only made Richie realize that Eddie’s dick was out. _Can we **not** think about that right now?_

After rummaging through his trunk, Richie found another jacket to drape over Eddie; he just hoped he didn’t get pulled over because it was obviously a poorly hidden body. “It’s fine, it's late, just don’t drive like a fucking moron,” Richie reassured himself as he held the steering wheel tightly with two hands, glancing at the rearview mirror to look at Eddie, “I got you, man.”

It wasn’t the first time Richie had driven drunk, and it certainly wasn’t going to be the last. He knew that it was irresponsible, everybody told him that at the end of the night, but Richie convinced himself that it was out of necessity and not because of a lack of self-care. This time it was easy to convince himself that it was the right thing to do; Derry isn’t full of Uber drivers that are cool with corpses in their back seat. _He’s not dead_.

Richie thought driving would be the hard part of his cobbled-together plan, but as he pulled up in front of the hotel, he realized he had to get Eddie _inside_. He looked like an absolute nightmare, and Richie knew that if someone saw him, there would be no way to explain how he looked, outside of pretending it was a Halloween prop and who would fall for that? Richie got out his car and went into the trunk, pulling out more clothes in hopes he could put enough clothes on Eddie that he could pass for someone asleep in his arms.

Putting clothes on Eddie wasn’t the easiest, but after flipping up the hood on the sweatshirt, Richie was pleased with the disguise. As long as Eddie didn’t start screaming again, this might actually work. Richie scooped up Eddie from the backseat and held him close to his chest, using his foot to shut the car door. He quickly crossed the parking lot and stepped into the hotel, briefly making eye contact with the late-night attendant and joking, “Ho boy long night, this guy can’t hold is alcohol!”

Not waiting to see if the woman would respond, Richie made his way up to his room, shutting the door and quickly going to work. He took Eddie into the bathroom and set him down in the tub, pushing his hood back to look over his face, “What happened to you?” If Richie hadn’t heard Eddie screaming and _literally_ say his name, he would have been right to assume he was dead right now. Eddie was missing all the things that made someone alive: skin, most muscles, and any apparent organs. “Great, more magic bullshit. Lucky me.”

Richie took a deep breath and unzipped the sweatshirt, pulling it off of Eddie’s arms carefully. _Was he screaming because it hurts?_ He gingerly picked rocks off Eddie’s bones and mumbled to him while he did, “Eddie if you could wake up so that I know I’m not losing it. I really don’t want this,” Richie emphasized by gesturing to Eddie, “to be my fucking mourning hallucination…No screaming this time though.”

Ten minutes passed, and Richie managed to get all the rocks off Eddie, which was a triumph, but Eddie was still covered in dirt. Considering he didn’t want Eddie to freak out, Richie figured turning the shower on might be a bad idea; instead, he tipped all the ice out the room’s ice bucket and filled it with warm water, electing to give him a sponge bath instead.

The more dirt he scrubbed off Eddie, the more uneasy Richie’s stomach became. “How were you _conscious?_ Come on, man, talk to me. I need to know what happened…”

Without warning, Eddie’s gasped for air as his eyes shot open, sending Richie to his feet and back against the sink with a startled shout while the bucket of dirty water spilled across the floor.

“Water,” Eddie managed to croak out.

“Yeah, man, of course,” Richie responded, his hand shaking as he filled a glass and knelt down next to Eddie, “Do you want me to … Never mind, I got it.” Richie chuckled nervously and tipped the water into his mouth slowly, struggling to ignore the sound of the water draining into the bathtub; there was no stomach for it to go inside of.

Eddie let Richie pour the entire glass of water into his mouth. The two sat quietly, making eye contact, until Richie finally joked, “You look terrible.”

“No shit.”

Richie started to laugh and cry at the same time, “Holy shit, Eddie what—”

“Don’t look at me, I’m as lost as you are!” Eddie shouted but looked immediately worn out from the action. He noticed that Richie was crying and was about to say something, but Richie beat him to the punch.

“You were dead, Eddie. And we… _had_ to leave you behind. And now you’re here like some George Romero nightmare, so yeah, I’m crying. Haha the funny one is crying!”

Richie couldn’t tell what emotion Eddie was feeling, but was surprised to find him set his skeletal hand on his arm, “I remember dying, which is weird, to say the least. Shit, wait, you guys killed It, right?”

“Yeah, we did,” Richie wiped his eyes with the back of his arm and chuckled, “Mike ripped his heart out of his chest, and then we squished it like a gusher.” The physical contact was starting to make him uncomfortable, “I hope you don’t have scary hands forever, man.”

“Shut up, Rich, you don’t think I’m freaked out about it? I have a job and a wife; I can’t go back looking like this,” Eddie took his hand back and gestured to himself.

“Married, right yeah. I mean, I had to ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ you to get you into the hotel, so I don’t think you’re going back to work just yet. Plus, why would you _want_ to go back? How much fun can a risk analyst have?”

“More fun than you think, you should have seen our Halloween party last year.”

Richie nodded along, “Cool, you still have all your boring memories, that’s a good sign.”

“Very funny,” Eddie thought about it and then made a ‘fair enough’ head motion, “Guess it is good that I have all my memories.”

“So, you gonna tell me what happened?”

Eddie looked hesitant but eventually recounted, “Well, there was nothing, and suddenly I was alive, in pain, and buried. I did the only thing I could think to do and crawled out…”

“Shit… Are you still in pain?”

“Yeah, but not as much…Thanks, Richie.”

“What? No, come on, man. I did what anybody would’ve done,” Richie waved Eddie away and then stood up, “Do you want more water?”

“Don’t change the subject, _anybody_ else would’ve run…What were you doing there anyway?” Eddie asked as he tested whether he could lift himself out of the tub. He quickly found the answer to be ‘no.’

“I didn’t run from your ugly mug at the Chinese restaurant, so why would I do it now?” Richie joked while he filled up the glass with water again and handed it to Eddie, despite the fact he didn’t ask for it, “You’re my friend, and I didn’t want to leave you behind.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you were there in the first place,” Eddie took the glass of water and drank it on his own while waiting for a response.

“I was … there, drinking and feeling sorry for myself, and I wanted to say goodbye to you,” Richie rubbed the back of his neck, “So much for that, right? Now I gotta carry you around with me. Oh, and I check out tomorrow, so that makes shit way more difficult.”

“That makes me feel better, thanks. I’ll just go fuck myself.”

Richie sighed and sat down beside Eddie again, “Sorry, this is just a lot.”

Eddie set his hand on Richie’s arm once again, “Thank you for helping… You missed me that bad, huh?”

“Yeah, dumbass. We didn’t see each other for 27 years, spend 3 days being terrified, and then you up and get yourself killed…I wanted to hang out and shoot the shit instead of getting attacked by fortune cookies,” Richie let out a yawn and rubbed his face with his free hand. He was wiped out, but he didn’t want to leave Eddie alone; there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind that maybe none of this was real, and Eddie would disappear by the morning.

“Wow … You’re feeling sincere.”

“I’m still drunk, and I’m fucking tired.”

“Go to sleep, Rich, I’m fine.”

Richie shook his head, “Yeah, I know, so am I. I’ve been tired for days, dude.”

“Fine, then _I’m_ going to sleep.” Eddie pushed at Richie’s arm and then got comfortable in the bathtub, “Go to sleep.”

Richie grumbled and waved Eddie away, but got to his feet anyway, “Alright, fine, I’m going… I’ll uh… Yeah, I don’t know, I’ll wake you up. Good night, Eddie.”

“Good night, Richie.”

Richie shut the bathroom door and collapsed onto his bed, tossing his glasses on the side table before quickly falling asleep with his shoes still on.


	2. Chapter 2

Richie groaned as he woke up, nuzzling against the deflated hotel pillows before pulling his phone out of his pocket. He squinted at his screen with tired eyes and much to his annoyance, it was already 10 am. A few more hours of sleep would’ve been beneficial, but there was too much to do.

Sitting up in bed, Richie glanced over at the still shut bathroom door. _I hope he’s still in there._ Richie grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and sat up in bed with his feet on the floor, taking a deep breath before getting up and lightly knocking on the door, “Eddie? You still there?”

No answer.

“Eddie, this isn’t funny, man, come on,” Richie called as he knocked on the bathroom door harder, “You awake in there?” Not wasting any time, he opened the door and quickly let out a sigh of relief when he saw Eddie slowly waking up in the bathtub.

“Alright, alright. I’m awake, calm down,” Eddie groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

“Whoa hold up…” Richie walked further into the bathroom and knelt down next to Eddie. Much to his surprise, Eddie appeared to have sprouted up some more organs and muscles overnight, “How the fuck…”

Eddie blinked a couple of times and looked down at his midsection. It was a quick way to wake him up, as Eddie exclaimed, “Holy shit!”

“How’d you do that?”

“I don’t know, I just went to sleep.”

“Huh…Who would’ve guessed sleep was _that_ useful,” Richie rested his hand on the wall and tapped his fingers, “The fact I can _see_ your stomach isn’t great, but at least it’s there.”

Richie’s head hurt from stress, lack of sleep, and a hangover he just noticed. He had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t be getting much sleep for a while; his brain was wouldn’t stop yelling at him to make a plan. Staying in the closet and being disingenuous with who he was deep down didn’t really appeal to him anymore. But the act of being genuine was more arduous than the idea of it.

And then there was Eddie. When he saw him for the first time after 27 years, he was hit with a flood of happy memories surrounding the two of them: days at the arcade, bike rides home under the stars, and the handful of times they’d fallen asleep on their hideout’s hammock together. He loved Eddie in so many ways but was apprehensive about letting his feelings known. What if he told Eddie and it just ruined everything?

“You in there, Rich?” Eddie asked, and Richie realized Eddie had been trying to get his attention for more than a few moments.

“Yep, here I am,” Richie pushed himself off the wall and rubbed his hands together, “Let me get you some clothes so we can get the fuck out of here.” He quickly went to the other room and riffled through his suitcase, “Can you stand up on your own?”

Eddie grabbed the tub's edge with one hand and the handle attached to the wall with the other. His bones creaked and scraped together as he pulled himself upward. It hurt so much that Eddie couldn’t hold back a pained groan.

With a pile of clothes in his arms, Richie skidded into the bathroom when he heard Eddie in pain. He found Eddie standing but leaned up against the green ceramic wall for support. Richie set the clothes down on the bathroom counter and held his hand out to Eddie.

“No, I’ve got it.”

“Doesn’t really look like it,” Richie made a ‘come on’ hand gesture before Eddie relented and grabbed onto his hands. Slowly, with a tight grip on Richie’s hands, Eddie lifted his legs one by one and crawled out of the bathtub. Eddie didn’t make any noise this time, but Richie could tell that it was painful for him to move. “Good job, Eddie. You got it from here?”

Eddie wrapped his bones tighter around Richie’s hand but didn’t say anything.

“I’ll take that as a no…”

“Yeah, no fucking shit. I can’t even stand on my own, what makes you think I can do anything else? It feels like I’m gonna fall apart every time I move.”

“I mean, it would be easier to carry you around if you were just a pile of bones,” Richie joked, but Eddie wasn’t having any of it, “Sorry.”

“Just help me.”

“You got it,” Richie reassured while walking backward to lead him over to the toilet so he could sit down on the closed lid. It wasn’t pleasant, but Eddie managed all of it. Richie grabbed the clothes off the counter and knelt down next to Eddie, proceeding to put on his pants. Making things less awkward wasn’t exactly Richie’s strong suit as he joked, “Let’s put your dick away; I’ve had to look at it for way too long.” _Sure, **had** to._

“Richie, this isn’t going to work,” His voice was shaky and hopeless.

“What? Come on, they’re just pants.”

Eddie shook his head, “No, Rich, it not that.”

Richie looked up at Eddie to see him looking in the bathroom mirror at himself. It was the first time he’d seen his face since his resurrection, and it was apparent, he didn’t like what he was seeing.

“Richie, I can’t do this. I’m a nightmare, I can’t leave this room!”

“You _have_ to! We don’t have any other –”

The two froze when they heard the door to Richie’s room open. In Richie’s haste to get Eddie into his room the night before, he’d forgotten to put the “do not disturb” sign on his door handle. Richie shot to his feet and pulled the door shut louder than he meant to as he exited the bathroom, startling the housekeeper who was pulling the comforter of his bed, “Oh! You scared me.”

“Yep, I sure did. Can you leave?” Richie asked, his hands behind his back, “I forgot to put up the do not disturb sign.”

“Of course, dear, I can come back,” The woman said, smiling at Richie as she set the comforter back on the bed.

“Cool, thanks, I gotta go clean up the torture chamber I set up in the bathroom.”

The housekeeper’s expression changed, and she furrowed her brow. _She didn’t like that one._

“It was a joke, I was joking,” Richie called to her, but she was already gone, closing the door behind her. With a big sigh of relief, Richie opened up the bathroom door.

Eddie had moved from his seated spot to the bathroom counter, where he held onto the edge tightly while looking at himself in the mirror. Richie watched from the doorway while Eddie poked and prodded his skinless face, letting out a sigh as he looked up at Richie, “You’re right, I do look terrible.”

“What can I say, I call em’ like I see em,” Richie laughed, but Eddie didn’t seem all that amused, “It’s gonna be fine, Eddie. You already grew a stomach overnight; you’ll have skin in no time.”

“Can we just get out of here?”

“Say no more, I want out of Derry just as much as you,” Richie entered the bathroom and grabbed the t-shirt he’d picked out for Eddie. Eddie turned and leaned his back against the sink without saying anything more. He raised his arms so Richie could put the shirt on him, though he looked a touch uncomfortable. With Eddie conscious, Richie became aware of how much he had to touch him and how close he had to be to Eddie. His heartbeat hard in his chest, but Richie continued to dress him, the two silently moving in tandem till Eddie had everything on, including shoes. “Perfect,” Richie remarked as he pulled up the hood on the sweatshirt he put on Eddie.

Eddie looked at himself in the mirror again and shrugged, “I guess this might work.”

“Not all is lost, Eddie Spaghetti. Just keep that hood up, and we’ll be fine,” Richie gave Eddie a pat on the shoulder and then stepped into the other room to change himself.

“Oh god, Rich, don’t call me that.”

“No not that one? I’ve got a whole list of nicknames for you,” Richie pulled on a horrid printed button-up and slipped it on, “What about Ed-dente? Eddie Confetti? I guess now I can start calling you Unsteady Eddie.”

Shambling his way out of the bathroom, Eddie sat down on the bed with a groan, “Ed-dente? You’re kidding, right? No wonder you don’t write your own jokes.”

“Rude. I’m proud of that one,” Richie sat down next to Eddie and pulled his socks and shoes on, “So we can go out the back to my car, and then I’ll come back to check out. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Eddie mumbled as he stared down at the floor, his fingers intertwined tightly, and his voice unsteady, “I feel like I can’t breathe.”

Even though touching Eddie still made Richie’s heartbeat too fast, he still wanted to find excuses to do so. He set his hand on Eddie’s forearm in an attempt to comfort him but didn’t let himself linger.

“It’s going to be fine, Eddie,” The reassurance was mostly for Eddie, but a small part was for him; Richie was masterfully hiding the fact that he wasn’t sure if this _was_ going to be okay. Not just the situation with Eddie, which was all-around weird, even for what they had already dealt with. Richie had a lot to worry about and was struggling to keep it in. “You don’t have any lungs, though, so that makes sense.”

Eddie groaned and rolled his eyes. He moved faster than he had all morning as he got up and headed for the door, not saying anything. A shiver went up Richie’s spine as he heard the sound of Eddie’s bones. Nothing was keeping them from not grinding together; Eddie hadn’t grown cartilage yet. It shouldn’t be possible, but then again, Beverly knowing how all of them would die shouldn’t have been possible either. _I hope this weird magic doesn’t run out_.

The two made their way out of the hotel room, and Richie guided Eddie toward the hotel's back exit. Unfortunately, Richie had forgotten entirely about the set of stairs they had to go down. “Shit. Eddie, can you do stairs?”

“I’ve got it! Can you stop fussing over me?”

Richie held his hands up and backed off, letting Eddie open the door to the stairway, “Go ahead, man.”

He watched Eddie struggle to pull the door open, his bones creaking when he did. When he was sure Eddie would keep pushing it, Richie put his hand on top of Eddie’s and helped him open the door. In reality, Richie did most of the work.

Once the door shut behind them, Richie scooped Eddie up off his feet—another excuse to touch him—despite his protest, “Put me down!”

“Sorry, can’t hear you,” Richie mocked as he walked down the stairs with Eddie in his arms, “I’m pretty sure you’re just a Halloween decoration I picked up.”

Eddie huffed as he held onto Richie, one arm wrapped around his neck, “I hate this, I hope you know that.”

“Oh, come on, I’m doing all the work.” Richie had mixed feelings about it. He felt like he was making up for leaving Eddie behind the first time, and he wasn’t about to let Eddie stop him from doing that. The problem was Eddie’s hand on the back of his neck was giving Richie goosebumps. Obvious ones. At least Richie thought they were; that’s the thing when you like someone, you believe every skip of your heart is apparent, but it never is.

Eddie didn’t make a peep till they made it to Richie’s car; he was too busy pouting the whole way down the stairs. Richie set him down and then opened up the passenger door for him, “There you are, my liege, your chariot.”

Richie was surprised to find Eddie playing along with him, “Oh, of course, a lavish rented sports car.” Eddie laughed as he groaned his way into the passenger seat, “Go check out, I’m tired of Derry.”

“Same, I’m ready to never come back here again. I’ll be back, watch your bones there, Eds,” Richie shut the door and then hustled his way back inside, ready to leave but fucking scared of what was ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! A second chapter! I hope that y'all enjoyed it! Let me know what you liked and hell, I'll even take what you didn't. I've already finished writing chapter 3, I'm just giving myself some space from it before I start editing.  
> I'm probably going to update the story description at some point to reflect more accurately where this story is gonna go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie _is_ being an asshole. So he tries to do better.

“What the fuck do you mean, Richie?! You can’t just cancel three shows like that. You already canceled one, and you said you’d be back _tomorrow.”_

Richie had just finished loading up his suitcases when he decided to finally bite the bullet and call his agent. There was no way he would play a bunch of shows when he needed to take care of Eddie.

The frustrating part was he couldn’t even explain that to anybody. “Yeah, I _know_ that’s what I said, but you gotta give me some time, man. I’ll be there for the LA show, I promise.”

“You’re not having another nervous breakdown, are you?”

“No, not that I’m aware of,” Richie kicked a rock and glanced up at Eddie, who was shutting the car’s visor mirror for the second time after obsessively looking at his unfinished face, “Sure hope I’m not. LA, a week, I’ll be there. And you know what, I’ll be better than ever, ready to go.”

The line was quiet for a moment until Richie’s agent let out a long, annoyed sigh, “You’re lucky I like you, Tozier. Take care of your shit and then come to LA with a big smile on your face.”

“You got it! I’ll pick you up some cheesy souvenir in Grand Rapids,” Richie hung up and pocketing his phone with a relieved sigh. _Cool, that was the easy part._

“What was that about?” Eddie asked as Richie climbed into the driver’s seat. He’d finally given up at looking at himself in the mirror and pushed up the visor.

“My agent. He’s not too happy I had to cancel more shows,” Richie explained while strapping in and pulling his phone out his pocket to navigate. He crinkled his nose as he looked at the screen, “You want me to go through _Canada?_ No way, they hate my guts there. Montreal is the only place I’ve actually been booed.”

“I swear to god if you’re canceling shows for me, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Hey, there we go! We can go down through Massachusetts instead,” Richie clicked his phone into the stand on the dashboard, ignoring Eddie’s threat, “What’s an extra hour when it takes 2 days to drive to LA.”

“Richie, why are you canceling shows?” Eddie reiterated, starting to get frustrated.

“What’s the matter, Eds? You don’t want to go on a road trip with your old pal Richie?”

“I never said I didn’t—"

“Well, then who cares?”

“I do! Because you’re being controlling asshole and a shitty friend!” Eddie pulled the hood on his sweatshirt further over his face and turned over on his side, “Wake me up when we get to Massachusetts or wherever the fuck we’re going.”

That one stung. Not because Eddie was wrong, but because Eddie was the last person he wanted to hear that from. Richie never wanted Eddie to think he was a lousy friend. Richie knew when to stop when they were kids—where the line was—before Eddie would get mad. But something happened in those 27 years; he didn’t know where the line was anymore. _Am I an asshole?_

Then and there, Richie decided what this trip was about: being better. His mind raced while he drove in silence about how to do that. It was a big undertaking, so he just had to figure out how and where to start. _Could always come out to Eddie_. There was still that. He glanced over at Eddie quickly, not wanting to take his eyes off the road, but that quick look made his heart beat faster. Richie was so scared, but he figured that reaction was precisely why he should do it. He deserved to have someone to confide in.

Eddie pretended to be asleep for an hour and a half, until he finally slept soundly until Richie reached the hotel outside Springfield, Massachusetts. Richie had come into the parking spot a little hot and bumped the concrete hump that lets you know you’ve gone too far, which jarred Eddie awake. He looked up at Richie, who was running his fingers through his hair with a haggard look on his face.

“Sorry, Eddie,” Richie mumbled before looking up at him. That little bit of sleep and Eddie was already starting to grow cartilage on his nose, “Nice nose. I’ll get us checked in.”

As he walked away, Richie looked back, and he was reasonably sure he saw Eddie checking out his nose in the mirror.

Richie didn’t notice how full the hotel was until he got to the lobby where there was a sea of middle-aged white men. As he approached the reception desk, he was greeted with a banner above it that read:

DAOM 2016!

Dentist Association of Massachusetts

It’s a DAOM good time!

“Oh, Jesus,” Richie mumbled as he approached the receptionist, “Hi Stephanie. You don’t happen to have any double rooms available?”

“How’d you know my name?”

Richie gestured to her name tag and laughed, “I’ve got that dad power where I read name tags.”

“Are you a dad?”

“…No, actually. Guess I’m just a weird man in his 40s more than anything.”

Stephanie’s awkward laugh faded away as she typed a few things into the computer, leaving Richie to deal with his inability to relate to people.

“It looks like the only thing we have left is a single room. As you can see, we have a group that’s taking up most of our rooms,” Stephanie said, using her best customer service voice.

“Looks like they’re having a damn good time,” Richie laughed and then pulled his wallet out, “Single room is fine.”

“And that’s for two people?”

“Yeah, he—my friend, is in the car.”

“How many nights will you be staying with us?”

“Uhhhmmm,” Richie furrowed his brow and stared at the counter while he did the math, “Two nights, I guess.”

Stephanie turned her attention back to her computer and eventually slid a pin pad over to Richie, “That’s going to be $324.”

Richie was on autopilot at this point, half hearing the amenities the receptionist was describing; he just wanted to get to his room. Mumbling a polite thank you, Richie crumpled up his receipt and shoved it in his pocket along with his room keys. His agent often got on him for losing important receipts to the washing machine.

He arrived back to his car to find Eddie walking back and forth next to the vehicle. Slowly, but it didn’t look like Eddie was in nearly as much pain. It wasn’t till Eddie said something that he realized he was staring, “What are you smiling about?”

“Nothing just looks like you’re crushing it, man. Would you believe there’s a dentist convention using the hotel?”

Eddie leaned against the car and shoved his hands in his sweatshirt pockets, “Did you manage to get a room?”

“Yeah, but it’s only a single… I mean, who cares. We’re grown-ass men. We can share a bed together.”

“No shit, Richie. A single is fine, or I’ll sleep in the bathtub again,” Eddie groaned as he pushed himself off the trunk so that Richie could pull out his luggage, “If you’re going to be weird about it.”

“I’m not being weird about it, you’re being weird about it,” Richie falsely retorted as he slung his overnight bag over his shoulder.

“Oh my _god!_ ” Eddie groaned as he started to walk away, faster than he had earlier. Richie fumbled with his luggage and had to hustle to catch up with him. “You’re being fucking weird, dude. And you’re _still_ being an asshole.”

Richie set a hand on Eddie’s shoulder and spun Eddie around to hide his face from the pack of dentists coming toward them. Neither of them said anything until the group passed, who didn’t acknowledge Richie and Eddie as they were too busy swapping horror stories. Finally, Richie said, “Look, I’ll explain myself once we get to the room.”

“You better.”

“I swear,” Richie patted Eddie’s shoulder and pointed at the side of the building, “We should go around the back. You don’t have enough face to go through the lobby.”

“Lead the way, I guess,” He groaned as he stepped up onto the sidewalk, walking around the side of the building with Richie, “You seem to always know where the back exit is.”

“I’m mildly famous, and side doors have saved my ass a couple of times,” Richie explained as he opened the door for Eddie, “Some fans do _not_ know how to shut up.”

“Your life is _so_ difficult,” Eddie mocked as he walked into the hotel, leaving Richie still holding the door open with his brow furrowed.

Richie caught up to Eddie just as he was stepping into an empty elevator. The doors shut, and Richie tapped the 3rd-floor button before leaning against the wall with a sigh of relief. He just wanted to get to their hotel room and get some room service for dinner. Because he’d tried to get out of Derry as quickly as possible, Richie forgot to eat breakfast _and_ lunch.

“Now _you_ look terrible,” Eddie commented while bumping up against Richie’s shoulder, “Take care of yourself.”

“Yeah yeah, I know. I’m working on it.” Richie waved Eddie off as he exited the elevator, pulling his suitcase with him, “We’re looking for—” Richie pulled out the keycards from his pocket “—263. Which looks like it’s as far from the elevator as possible, great.”

Swiping the keycard, Richie let Eddie go in first and then followed him inside. It was a modest room with a mostly cream and blue color scheme. Richie had been in plenty of hotel rooms like this, and as he walked in, he did the same thing he always did: toss his bags in the closet and then go take a piss.

“Can you eat yet? I was gonna get some room service for dinner,” Richie asked while washing his hands.

He found Eddie sitting on the bed, still looking frustrated with his fingers intertwined, “No, I don’t think I have intestines yet. Are you done being weird?”

“Eds, I’m always weird,” Richie sat down at the desk chair in the room and let out a sigh.

“Stop being _gay_ about the bed thing, that’s what I mean.”

“Kinda hard to stop being gay when you’re a flaming homosexual like me,” Richie joked, and then realized what he’d just said, “Shit.”

Out of all the ways Richie could come out to Eddie, a joke made the most sense. He didn’t dare look up at Eddie.

“Wait, what? Are you serious?”

“Uhh …” Richie could feel his face getting hot as he finally looked up. Eddie didn’t look put off or angry; he looked surprised more than anything. Surprised and empathetic. Richie sat up a little, feeling a small jolt of bravery as he said, “Yeah, fuck it. I’m gay. And _that’s_ why I’m so weird, dipshit.”

“Whoa…That’s unexpected,” Eddie waved his hand and added, “It’s not a bad thing, it doesn’t really matter. Fuck, and I just said you were being gay about the bed, I’m sorry. Now _I’m_ the asshole.”

“No, no, stop, quit it. I don’t care, “Richie rubbed his face and groaned, “This is a whole ass conversation that’s gonna have to wait till _after_ dinner.”

Eddie didn’t object, so Richie ordered a burger and strawberry shake for dinner, which was his way of doing something nice for himself. Richie had gotten flack from shitty men for having a strawberry shake, which unfortunately worked too often. Being as deeply in the closet as Richie was, he did whatever he had to just to be seen as “normal.” It made him give up on things he really wanted to do, which he was finally starting to see as a problem.

The two of them stayed in their respective seats with Eddie speaking up first, “How long have you been gay?”

“My whole life, man.”

“No, not like that. Like…When did you realize?”

“Ooohh, see, that’s a different question,” Richie gestured with his index finger and laughed before continuing, “Promise not to laugh?”

“Eh, I’ll do my best.”

“Do you remember that Paul Bunyan statue?”

Eddie didn’t try at _all_ not to laugh, “The biggest beefiest man ever gave _you_ a boner?!”

“Yeah, duh! What part of ‘I’m attracted to men’ do you not understand? And I’m not _only_ into big beefy guys. I’m a varied man.”

Holding onto his side, Eddie was trying to stop himself from laughing, “Ow, fuck, I’m sorry. I’m not making fun of you, I swear.”

“Well, that’s a first,” Richie finally kicked his shoes off and slid down the chair so he could stretch his legs out, “It’s nice to have someone know.”

“Am I the only one?”

“Nah, I have an ex-girlfriend that figured it out. And it’s kinda hard to hide it from a guy fucking you in the ass in a gas station bathroom.

The gasp that came from Eddie’s mouth was a pretty good indication that might have been a little _too_ much information; if he had skin, he’d be blushing. _Whoops._ “Sorry, my filter is just gone right now.”

“It’s all good…Hey, do you remember that time when we went to the movies with the rest of the losers, and I accidentally spilled my popcorn on Bowers?”

Richie furrowed his brow while he tried to remember what Eddie was talking about, but he was drawing a blank, “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

“Really? I remember you spilled your drink on him, so he wouldn’t think I did it.”

“That _sounds_ like something I would do. Oh god, I don’t wanna think about Bowers right now,” Richie pushed himself to his feet and was thankful that there was a knock on his door, “Holy shit, I’m _so_ hungry.”

Eddie scooted to the other side of the bed, so whoever came to the door didn’t see his face. He was perturbed by the fact he had a memory that Richie couldn’t seem to remember.

It was a shame; the memory made Eddie happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyyyyyyyy thanks for reading! i hope that you enjoyed it, please let me if you liked it. comments make me very happy (they make everybody happy, really) also if I've got any grammar mistakes, lemme know.

**Author's Note:**

> Whoa! My first step into another fandom, hey IT fans! I hope you enjoyed reading, leave me a comment!  
> I'm working on a second chapter, so if you did like it, there will be more!


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